Thanks, all, for the kind wishes. I haven't had one of my mad dashes for the bathroom in about 5 hours, so things are looking up on that front.

Jacob, sweet, darling little beast, thinks it is hilarious when I puke. We had a couple of times where I would have him and I would start to get that magical feeling... so I'd toddle on down, lay him, gently but hurriedly, on the bathmat, and sing my precious, froglike songs. And he would lie there and giggle. So glad I could provide him with some extra entertainment, since I clearly don't spend any of the rest of my time catering to his every wish.

BUT, alas, my day actually took a sharp downswing at about 3:30 this afternoon. I was walking down the hallway, laden with Jacob, of course, when I suddenly got a screaming, stabbing pain in my foot. Very happy that Willem was home and able to grab the baby from me - I sat down, bent myself all yoga-like, and found a 1/2" splinter poking straight into my foot, in that think callus-y part at the base of the toes.

Bad words, bad words, bad words - oh, my goodness, that was far more pain than that tiny little piece of wood deserved to cause.

And most people, when they decide to impale themselves on something, opt for something sharp. I impaled myself on a hallway.

Of course, it broke off under the skin, so I had to give in and go to the ER. ("Let me give it a try," Willem says. Bite me and the horse you rode in on, bucko - you are one insane individual if you honestly expect me to let you even look closely at my foot! If *I* can't get it out, there's not a single, solitary snowflake's chance ANYWHERE that I'll let you try it.)

They got it out, so life is much better now, at least from the ankles down. It's been 8 years since my last tetanus shot, so they decided to add insult to injury and hit me with that, too. So now my arm hurts too, AND I have to listen to my husband's snarky comments about how HE would have coped if HE had gotten a splinter. First of all, I have given birth twice, had an appendectomy, broken my wrist and my tailbone, etc., etc. - I am actually really good with pain, and I did NOT complain about this. And second of all, BITE ME! You are male, and therefore, by definition, you have no measurable pain tolerance and you would like to convince me that you have ever, in your life, experienced anything remotely similar to active labor - and you have not - so just hush.

Ugh. But he was at least smart enough to drop me and the baby off at home and take our 4-year-old out to dinner and Christmas shopping, so I've got some downtime while Jacob naps. Maybe I'll try eating some saltines.